


The Failing of Lies

by AliaMael



Series: Down to ashes and back [1]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-20 00:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 6,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliaMael/pseuds/AliaMael
Summary: There were many things everyone knew about Prince LaCroix. He was ruthless. Arrogant. As cold as ice. He didn't trust anyone, ever. He had an overwhelming thirst for power. He could order you dead without blinking.Save for one uncomfortable truth, it was all lies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [zeprince](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zeprince/pseuds/zeprince) and [Kalisca](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalisca/pseuds/Kalisca) for opening my eyes on this pairing.

There were many things everyone knew about Prince LaCroix. He was ruthless. Arrogant. As cold as ice. He didn't trust anyone, ever. He had an overwhelming thirst for power. He could order you dead without blinking.

Save for one uncomfortable truth, it was all lies. Very carefully crafted lies, and it was a good thing that Kindred bought them. Unfortunately, LaCroix himself didn't have this luxury.

In the secrecy of his room, he couldn't quite conjure up the strength to think of himself as the Prince, or even as LaCroix. Here, he was only Sebastian, and it was _awful_. Because Sebastian was _weak_ , Sebastian was _scared_ , and he despised himself to the point of tears he couldn't let out. What had his Sire seen in him, he couldn't help but wonder. Like he did each and every night while his hands shook as he fought his panic to dress himself and _go out_.

He couldn't show any weakness. He'd end up _dead_.

He was stuck. Now that he was Prince, he couldn't back up. But he hadn't been able to when he was only Primogen. And before that when he was the main provider of money for the City's affairs. And…

He didn't have a choice since the Final Death of his Sire, probably. _Be strong, or they will see you as weak. The weaks get killed, Sebastian._ But even before… no, it was different, before. He hadn't tried to be stronger because of fear, but because of love. Whatever twisted and unhealthy love there was between them.

It had been a shock to feel the brutal severing of the Blood Bond.

There were many things everyone knew about Prince LaCroix, and amongst them one truth. He didn't trust anyone. Even himself.


	2. Chapter 2

He was about to crash. As if being forced to kill wasn't enough, the fledgling had look so much like… like…

_The sun shining through her hair as she laughed with him. The scent of the roses in his mother's garden._

She was dead, and this memory was nothing but a weakness, one more weakness, as if he didn't have enough already!

There, on the scene before all the Kindred of the City, he hadn't been sure he would be able to sentence the fledgling to death. He had been fighting to hide the tremor that wanted to take over his voice. And then Rodriguez had cut him, throwing him in a loop of blind panic as he struggled for words. Something, _anything_ to keep the lies going. To look strong. To hide the faults.

Now the fledgling was on her way, and he needed to _keep it together_ long enough to get to Venture Tower, to safety…

A loud bang made him jump, then bite his lip. In front of the now open door was a visibly crossed Rodriguez, and Sebastian – _LaCroix, he needed to be LaCroix_ – hurried to put his impassive mask back in place.

"Mister Rodriguez," he acknowledged coldly.

"This is _still_ bullshit, LaCroix, and you know it," Rodriguez said, strangely contained.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Rodriguez came closer to him, anger radiating from all his body. Sebastian couldn't help but take a step back – _weakness, weakness!_ – before he held his ground. Rodriguez noticed, obviously, and smirked.

"Now that you're alone with me, you're less arrogant, eh? Where's your guard dog?"

Sebastian didn't know. He didn't trust himself to answer, either.

Rodriguez took another step, bringing him close enough to touch. Sebastian had to look up to keep eye contact, and part of him wished he hadn't. Rodriguez looked powerful in a way Sebastian could never hope to emulate. He felt weak, so weak…

He froze when his back hit to wall. He hadn't even been conscious he was backing away. Rodriguez grinned down at him, showing his fangs, triumphant.

"Are you _afraid_ , LaCroix?"

_The weaks get killed_ , chanted his Sire inside of his head. Maybe that was it. Maybe this would be… easier.

He let his eyes close, unable to move, unable to speak. _Please, make it quick._

Nothing happened for what felt like a very long time.

"Are you waiting for me to kiss you or to kill you?" Rodriguez asked eventually.

Sebastian opened his eyes. Rodriguez looked somewhere between disturbed and disgusted. Strangely enough, it was a relief. Sebastian _deserved_ disgust. It was _right_ . And even if he had fought all his unlife to keep his weakness hidden, even if he would go on doing so –if he survived the night–, it felt almost exhilarating to have someone look right through the lies and see _him_.

"You're weird," Rodriguez added before turning his back to Sebastian and leaving.

When the door closed, Sebastian found himself sitting on the floor, his whole body shaking.

Apparently, he would have to lie through another night.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian knew he couldn't avoid Rodriguez forever, as much as he wanted to. In fact he couldn't avoid him at all without someone getting suspicious.

But that too was a lie. A new one, which felt strange. He didn't want to avoid Rodriguez. He wanted to meet him again like this, alone with him, and see if this time he would do something more than talk.

He had no idea what he wished for. Only that he couldn't forget the look in Rodriguez's eyes.

When he did meet Rodriguez, they were fortunately not alone. The Sheriff was here, as well as Rodriguez's friends, who looked half ready to fight and half ready to knock him out if needed. Several other Kindred were trying to eavesdrop with varying degrees of subtlety.

"What do you want, mister Rodriguez?" Sebastian greeted him.

"Don't try to fuck with me LaCroix. If you want her dead, just kill her, or fucking stop setting her up like that!"

He obviously meant the fledgling. Sebastian didn't know what to do with her. He couldn't let the _memory_ take over. She was useful. She was dangerous.

"What makes you think I want her dead? She's still alive," he pointed.

Rodriguez growled; his friends got closer to him, prepared to calm him down.

"I need to talk to you _alone_."

The other Anarchs exchanged a surprised look.

"Nines, are you sure?" one of them asked.

Rodriguez didn't react, looking Sebastian right in the eyes. He should refuse. He should laugh him off. He should…

"Alright. Follow me."

Sebastian turned to the exit and didn't wait to see if Rodriguez obeyed.

"What the fuck?" one of the Anarchs exclaimed.

Sebastian tuned her out. He was trying frantically to think of something, _anything_ he could do to… to react to Rodriguez. He had no idea what he was doing. It was weakness, _weakness_ , and he felt his ever present fear rising to choke him.

He couldn't remember how they got to this smaller and isolated room. Rodriguez closed the door and suddenly Sebastian felt like he was on the verge of drowning.

"Now, no more lies," Rodriguez growled.

Sebastian turned to face him and clutched desperately the remains of his composure.

"I don't need to lie about this, mist…"

His voice died as Rodriguez grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall. He looked like he was trying to read his mind through sheer willpower.

"I don't understand you, LaCroix."

_I don't understand me either_ , he thought.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Rodriguez went on, before adding: "Oh, yes, you _do_ want me to hurt you…"

Sebastian blinked, confused. He realised belatedly that instead of tensing at Rodriguez's threat, his whole body had gone lax. _Pliant_.

"I… I don't…" he stuttered before stopping himself.

_Don't show weakness. Be strong. The weaks get killed._

Rodriguez laughed.

"If I had known before that it was that easy to make you shut up!"

"What are you waiting for? Just kill me already!" Sebastian cried out.

Rodriguez froze, all amusement leaving his face.

"What is wrong with you?" he softly asked.

_Everything._

When he understood that Sebastian would not answer, Rodriguez turned suspicious.

"It's a trap, isn't it? You pretend to be weak, defenseless, but as soon as I touch you the Sheriff comes in and I'm the one to die instead? Is that it?!"

Sebastian could answer many things. That the Sheriff was off with the other Anarchs, who wouldn't let him go after them alone. That he had already touched him, and was still doing it. That he was not pretending. But his voice was stuck somewhere inside of his chest and he couldn't do more than _stare_.

Rodriguez let go of him and took three steps back, as if he was burnt.

"I won't fall for your tricks!"

Sebastian watched, paralyzed, as Rodriguez stormed out of the room. Eventually, he breathed through the lump in his throat, stopped his hands from shaking and gathered himself together.

After that, it was Rodriguez who avoided _him_.


	4. Chapter 4

Nines didn't slow down to let his friends catch up to him. He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and LaCroix  _now_ . He needed to forget how vulnerable he had looked. How  _lost_ .

"What happened with LaCroix?" Skelter asked.

"He tried to trick me. To make me misstep."

"You look awfully disturbed for something so predictable," Damsel pointed.

Well, it had been a disturbing experience. But he didn't want to tell them what LaCroix had done. Didn't want to admit that he almost, _almost_ fell for it. He felt gross. He hadn't thought something so pathetic could get to him, and it was unnerving to realise he had been so wrong about himself.

"He's just a disgusting piece of shit," he muttered.

Damsel laughed. Just like that, the topic was dropped. But night after night, he remembered the flicker of _hope_ on LaCroix's face when he had talked about hurting him. How easy it had been to shove him against the wall.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something true in this.

He couldn't face LaCroix. But he also couldn't share his doubts with anyone.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian found himself being kinder with the fledgling. Not that anyone could tell, given she always got herself in life or death situations, but he wasn't sending her to die anymore. He was giving her dangerous missions because she could survive them and come back victorious.

He was _not_ doing this to please Rodriguez.

He didn't understand the Anarch. He had thought that Rodriguez hated him, and that he obviously would be delighted to share what he now knew. That Sebastian was lying, hiding. He had thought this would be the end of him, and it had been as frightening as _liberating_. For several nights he had piled lies upon lies while thinking of how they would all crumble.

But nothing changed. No one called him out. It was almost disappointing. Because truth be told, something had changed. Something else than the unmistakable _absence_ of Rodriguez –and there were _no_ shards of ice growing in his blood each time he thought about it.

Sebastian was _tired_. More and more, the exhaustion blanketed the fear, making it so much more difficult to keep up the masquerade. He was making mistakes, he could feel it, but he didn't know what they were, nor how to correct them. He couldn't afford to look back, couldn't afford to stop.

He couldn't remember what was the point. And still, night after night, he got up and lied.


	6. Chapter 6

In the end, he had to confront him.

Frankly, Nines would have been perfectly fine with never seeing LaCroix again. He was _not_ obsessed with him. He had much more interesting things to do than think about him all night long.

Except even himself couldn't believe this lie.

It was not a good idea, and he knew it. Whatever the truth about his fucking _hope_ and _weakness_ , LaCroix was still the Camarilla Prince of Los Angeles. He was _powerful_. He was an _enemy_. It would do Nines no good to get closer to him. He had to crush this stupid fascination. Had to somehow stop the magnetic attraction, the _need_ to know, to see, to _touch_.

It was a weakness to be this obsessed with someone, and he knew it, and how _ironic_ it was. If the wrong person understood this about him, it would soon become a weapon in hostile hands. And wasn't it _weird_ that LaCroix had let _him_ , among everyone, see this opening in his shield?

But try as he might, Nines couldn't forget how _human_ LaCroix had seemed for the first time. Maybe he was only a fool, but it seemed intimate, _precious_ , to be allowed such knowledge. Like they already had a connection. A link that beckoned him.

So, really, it was just a matter of time. How long could he resist the temptation to seek him, like a butterfly seeks the fire?

As it appeared, not that long.

He was getting crazy, to overthink this without anything _new_ to help him understand, to make him _sure_. He wasn't the kind of person to wait. He wasn't _patient_. When he wanted something, he took it. So, knowing all along that it was a mistake, he went to see LaCroix.

Getting to the top of Venture tower was disgustingly easy. Or, maybe, LaCroix had _wanted_ him to come and planned accordingly. Too late to chicken out. Only a door left between them.

Nines closed his eyes for one instant, pushed all his hesitations away, and entered LaCroix's office.

It was wide. Too large. It was probably supposed to impress the visitors, but Nines couldn't help but think it only made _LaCroix_ seem smaller. Even the Sheriff managed to look small, in there.

LaCroix was seated behind a desk, his face strangely devoid of emotion. He frowned when he looked up to see who was the intruder, but upon recognizing Nines, he put his blank mask back. He took his time to put down the document he had been reading, and got up.

"Sheriff, out," he ordered.

Nines watched the massive vampire obey, even closing the door behind him. Now, they were alone once again. A shiver of anticipation ran down his back. Time to get some answers.

He turned to LaCroix, who was staring at him, unimpressed.


	7. Chapter 7

"Why are you so eager to put yourself in danger?" Rodriguez asked.

Control.  _Think, Sebastian._

"Are you really a danger for me, mister Rodriguez?"

There. His voice had not wavered. He was looking at him coldly. He could do it.

Rodriguez smirked.

"Who are you trying to persuade, exactly?"

He knew he should just frown at him, let him feel the sheer _stupidity_ of that statement. He couldn't.

"I know you're a manipulative bastard, LaCroix," Rodriguez went on, "but something tells me that you _want_ me to see through your lies. So. Why me?"

He didn't know. He didn't know, except that Rodriguez had been here when he'd been wavering, and had been the one to push him hard enough to break.

Rodriguez sighed.

"You have to make this difficult, don't you? I should have known. You're still _you_."

Sebastian blinked, and Rodriguez was _here_ , on him, shoving him against the cold glass of the window, _holding him_ , his hands impossibly _warm_ on his shoulders. Sebastian gasped, shivered. _Waited_.

"One last question, LaCroix," Rodriguez softly said. "What do you want from me?"

He didn't know. He couldn't answer. He _wanted_ to, but he _didn't know_ …

Rodriguez slowly released the pressure on Sebastian's shoulders; he felt himself on the verge of falling, _falling_ , as if the glass at his back had disappeared and there was only _void…_

"Destroy me," he pleaded, his voice foreign to his own ears.

Rodriguez seemed taken aback and visibly hesitated.

"Please…" Sebastian heard himself beg.

Just then, the intercom buzzed, shattering the _something_ that had bloomed between them. Rodriguez took three steps back and crossed his arms, pointedly avoiding to look him in the eyes. Sebastian fought to persuade his _dead_ body that he was _not_ out of breath.

"You should probably answer that," Rodriguez pointed.

Sebastian glowered at him. He _knew_ what he had to do. It was his building, his realm, and he was the Prince! He sidestepped Rodriguez without a word and turned the intercom on.

"What?" he barked.

It was the fledgling, back from her last mission. The door closed behind Rodriguez before Sebastian could even turn off the device. Sebastian was unsure if he would get another chance at… _this_. Whatever it was. But he couldn't afford to think about it. Not now. Not ever.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was happening way too fast.

It was vertiginous. Sebastian was doing his best to keep the City together, but everything tried to unravel at once, and he felt his grip on power crumble night after night. He didn't know what to _do_ , the only way forward, but already knowing he didn't have the best cards to play anymore.

He still had a tenuous hope to manage damage control when the fledgling came to him with news about Grout's disappearance. He knew already who had killed him –unless an enterprising Kindred had decided to act first– but he had to ask nevertheless.

The answer caught him off guard.

Rodriguez wasn't the kind of man to murder someone like this, and he almost told so to the fledgling. But she looked so _sure_. Had someone tampered with her memories? But who? And why?

He felt so _lost_.

Minutes after she left, he was still staring at the void, trying to find an explanation while keeping the growing panic at bay. He didn't want to lose Rodriguez. He couldn't afford it. Or could he? Was there really anything more than wishful thinking between them? Wasn't he a _weakness_ – _you need to be strong, Sebastian–_ a weakness he had to erase one way or another?

He didn't have _time_ to think about Rodriguez, he had a City to lead, a position to assure, but he couldn't _stop_ , couldn't keep him _out_ , out of his mind, out of this _mess_!

What good was power if he couldn't protect the one he…

Someone pointedly coughed; it took Sebastian all of his last threads of control not to jump. He looked up, fully prepared to yell at the intruder – _terrified he had been caught off guard, and why wasn't he dead already?_ – and froze. Rodriguez was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, curiosity on his face.

Silence stretched between them, until Rodriguez sighed and came closer to him. Sebastian could only watch him move, transfixed.

"So, I guess she told you?" Rodriguez asked eventually.

"What…" Sebastian began before his brain caught up to him. "Yes, she told me," he amended.

Silence, again.

"What are you going to do?" Rodriguez asked.

"You didn't do it, did you?"

Rodriguez let out a twisted laugh.

"Of course not. I wasn't even there. I have no clue how the kid can be so sure she saw me."

It was no surprise. But that brought no answer either.

"LaCroix? You do realise you're acting awfully out of character right now, don't you?"

Sebastian tensed. Rodriguez seemed… _worried_?

"How so?" he asked when it appeared clear that Rodriguez was waiting for an answer.

"You're… weirdly silent. Distracted, too."

No point in denying it. It was true. It was all _too much_.

Slowly, Rodriguez lifted his hand; his fingers gently came to rest just under Sebastian's eye before sliding down his cheek, leaving a trail of impossible _warmth_ behind them. His thumb caressed the corner of Sebastian's mouth. By the time Rodriguez had his hand on his neck, just where a pulse could be felt on mortals, Sebastian was fighting to stay upright, not to _melt_ , not to _shatter_.

After what felt like eternity, Rodriguez smiled. He pulled Sebastian closer and kissed him.

It was like walking into a fire. He was _burning_ , could feel himself _shaking_ , wanted to breathe, _needed_ to breathe but couldn't because he was _dead_ , and it was _suffocating_ , and he couldn't bear it, couldn't _stop_ it either, couldn't…

"Wow, wow… It's alright…" Rodriguez whispered.

It was not. But he was too _weak_ – _the weaks get killed_ – too _weak_ to do anything more than hold onto Rodriguez –when had he moved his arms?– and try not to break down.

"LaCroix… Sebastian… It's alright," Rodriguez repeated. "I'm here. I won't let you down."

Eyes closed, _fear_ spiraling inside him, Sebastian did his best to focus on the feel of Rodriguez's arms around him, the weird sensation of a beard scratching his neck, _anything_ to anchor him.

He slowly realised Rodriguez was talking. Calling him, actually.

"Sebastian, please talk to me?" Rodriguez was pleading softly. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong, please just _say_ something…"

"I…"

He didn't know what to say, but that appeared to be enough for Rodriguez who perceptibly relaxed.

"You had me worried here… What happened?"

"I… don't know…" Sebastian got out.

That prompted Rodriguez to hold him a little tighter.

And then, like before, the intercom buzzed. Rodriguez swore. Sebastian felt panic rise once more, threatening to drown him. Rodriguez was going to leave, to _disappear_ , never coming back…

"I'll get back as soon as possible, alright?" Rodriguez said, as if he could read his mind.

Rodriguez stepped back. Deadly _cold_ wrapped around Sebastian as he watched him leave.

He felt so much _worse_ than before. But it was all his fault. He had wanted to be _destroyed_ , and he was going to pay for it. For he was weak, and he deserved to suffer.


	9. Chapter 9

Strauss knew. Strauss knew, somehow, that the fledgling had seen _Rodriguez_ , even though that was _not_ him, but how could Sebastian prove that? Strauss knew, the Primogens knew, the Anarchs knew, _everyone_ knew and LaCroix couldn't avoid _reacting_ any longer. Everyone was waiting for him to call a Blood Hunt. Each _hour_ he didn't was painting him as weaker. He couldn't appear to be hesitating. Even if he was.

He had no way of framing someone else. If he didn't call the hunt, the Camarilla would call him weak, the Anarchs a coward. If he _did_ call the hunt, the Camarilla would whisper he was taking risks without thinking them through, and the Anarchs would go to war. One way or another, he lost.

In the end, because he was _weak_ , he did the only thing he knew. He pretended to be heartless, he pretended to be powerful, he pretended to be in control.

He called the Blood Hunt.

And then, he waited. Sooner or later, someone would act, he would die, and it would _finally_ be over.

He didn't even have the strength to end his own life, and for that he despised himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Nines couldn't believe how _stupid_ he had been.

_Of course_ LaCroix would call a Blood Hunt on him! How could he forget the Prince was a heartless, manipulative bastard? How could he believe for one _second_ than the meltdown he had witnessed was genuine?

(But then, what goal had LaCroix pursued?)

He was stupid, he was furious, and he was _hurt_ . He had thought there was _something_ waiting to bloom between them, and in the end it was just _treason_.

(What did this accomplish?)

He was forced to flee, to hide. He couldn't even go to fucking _punch_ LaCroix for what he did. He could only _wait_. He hated waiting! He hated feeling powerless! He hated _LaCroix_ for putting him through this!

(He had seemed to believe Nines innocent, even before he told him he wasn't there.)

He couldn't even let the anger take over. He had to stay calm, cautious, because of course the safest place to be right now was not safe _at all_. Fucking werewolves. Fucking cammies. Fucking LaCroix.

(He had been holding onto Nines like a drowning man onto a lifeline. He had been shaking.)

And so here he was, forced to wait, alone with his thoughts, with nothing to occupy him, nothing to keep him from asking himself, again and again, why he had been so naive.

(How could this be an act? Why would this be an act?)

(This made no sense at all.)


	11. Chapter 11

Everything _hurt_.

Nines was limping slowly _away_ , away from this damned park he _never_ wanted to see again. He needed to reach the Last Round before he passed out. He was probably dripping blood on the asphalt. He couldn't move his right arm; he didn't know what was the exact problem with it but he couldn't get himself to take a look.

He didn't dare hope the kid was still alive.

Walk. Just walk. He could do it. He would be safe with his friends. He just needed to _get there_.

A corner, and he stopped, uncertain if he was having hallucinations. LaCroix was here. LaCroix. In the street. _Alone_. Without his Sheriff. This made absolutely no sense. Nines was probably in a pain-induced delirium.

But… If he was real…

Oh, if he was real, then Nines would take the offered opportunity to _make him pay_.

Anger rose inside him, dulling the pain. He was close to losing control to the Beast, he knew it, but right now? He didn't care. LaCroix would regret his acts. Regret manipulating him _like this_ , regret betraying him.

Nines growled, feral, and LaCroix turned, seeing him for the first time. Nines smiled, an ugly smile, bloody, predatory. Then LaCroix recognized him.

Nines watched, fascinated despite his rage, as LaCroix went from a soulless, cold, unbreakable wall of ice to a frightened but poignantly hopeful _person_.

No one could act this well. He had to be sincere.

He had to be _fucking_ sincere and wasn't it even _worse_? If he hadn't been _lying_ , _acting_ , then _why did he try to get him killed_?

Nines lunged at LaCroix, intent on catching him by his collar and shake the answers out of him if needed. LaCroix only took a small step back before Nines touched him, gripped him, smearing blood on his pristine shirt.

"Why the fuck…" Nines began, yelling, before he felt the world tilt around him.

Instead of strangling LaCroix, he ended up leaning on him to stay upright.

"Rodriguez?"

LaCroix sounded so _worried_ it was disgusting. Nines clenched his teeth and took a wobbly step back, glaring daggers at him.

"You _don't_ get to worry for me after you set me up to _die_!"

"Then kill me," LaCroix said, softly. "Kill me and we're even."

What the actual fuck?

"You make no sense and I'm too wounded for this shit," Nines complained.

LaCroix looked down. Nines noted absently that there was blood on the road. His blood.

"Of course…" LaCroix whispered to himself. "I don't even deserve that. I shouldn't have asked."

Nines blinked, then decided he didn't care. He sidestepped LaCroix and made it to the end of the street before he stumbled. All went _black_.


	12. Chapter 12

When Nines regained consciousness, it was to the sound of Damsel _yelling_ at the top of her lungs. She sounded more pissed off than he _ever_ heard her, which was damn impressive, but he couldn't make out a single word of what she was saying because her voice was partly covered by hysterical laughter that _seemed_ to be Jack's.

He opened his eyes. The familiar ceiling of the Last Round greeted him.

"Welcome back to the land of unliving," Skelter said.

"What the… How did I got here?" Nines groaned. "And why the hell are they loosing their shit?"

"Same answer for your two questions."

Nines felt a sense of dread settle upon him, but Skelter went on before he could decide if he _really_ wanted to know or not.

"LaCroix."

"Fuck."

He tried to sit up and ended up whimpering in pain. Skelter held out an open blood bag to him.

"Drink this before you try to do _anything_ ," he ordered.

Nines gladly complied. After draining it, he still felt like shit, but he could at least think clearly.

"Wait, he's still there?!" he understood suddenly.

Skelter nodded, obviously displeased by the fact.

"The world has stopped making sense…" Nines complained.

"Good to know you're as puzzled as we are. Do you want me to throw him out?"

Nines almost said yes. Right now, what he wanted was just to _sleep_ , and LaCroix was a fucking _enigma_ he was not prepared to deal with. But he knew it was now or never.

"Help me get up."

"No way you're getting up right now Nines. You'll just fall on your face and Jack will laugh at _you_."

"Fuck you. I need to do something for this… look, I don't even now what to call this crazy shit."

Skelter sighed. He grabbed Nines' arm and pulled him to his feet. Nines almost fell back on the bed, but he gritted his teeth and took a step toward the main room. Now that he was moving, it was strangely easier, even if he couldn't ignore that Skelter was supporting most of his weight.

Skelter opened the door and they slowly got inside. Jack was the first to react to Nines' presence; he managed to tone down his laughter to an undignified giggle. Damsel slowly came to a stop, turned to Nines and threw her arms in the air.

"Nines, what the hell?!" she screamed.

Nines didn't answer. He was staring at LaCroix, who was in a corner, back against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. His face was blank. He was doing his best impersonation of an iceberg.

Nines let go of Skelter and limped toward LaCroix, stopping two or three steps before he could touch him. He didn't know how to begin to unravel this mess.

"Thanks for getting me here," he settled on.

Behind him, he heard Damsel sputtering in outrage, but paid her no attention. He was focused only on LaCroix, who didn't react _at all_.

"I'd still like an explanation," he tried.

No answer. Nines sighed.

"For fuck's sake, LaCroix… Why are you still here if you don't wanna talk?"

There. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it flicker of… unease. Closing his eyes for a second, Nines thought back to his previous encounters with LaCroix. He had also been almost unable to speak, unable to answer his questions. Even when he _did_ answer, he didn't manage coherency. There was something utterly _wrong_ with LaCroix, and he was tired of running around the problem. Either he would get to the core of this shit or he would kick him out of his life.

Nines walked the three steps between him and LaCroix, looked down at the blood staining his collar, and brought his hand up to rest on his cheek. LaCroix perceptibly leaned into it, his eyes widening, and Damsel screeched. Nines ignored her.

"Talk to me, Sebastian?" he whispered.

LaCroix's impassibility disappeared, leaving him visibly frightened and lost.

"I… I want to," he managed.

"So, what's keeping you from doing it?" Nines pushed.

"I don't know…"

Nines frowned. LaCroix often used this answer, didn't he?

"Then tell me what you _do_ know?"

LaCroix blinked, slowly.

"I don't want you to die," he affirmed eventually.

Nines felt a burst of fury rising through him, but he fought it down. He would pull all the answers out of LaCroix and _then_ he could get mad at him.

"Thanks, I guess," Nines deadpanned.

LaCroix flinched.

"I'm sorry…"

Nines hated himself for it, but he believed him. He realised with a weird pang of guilt that LaCroix was not looking at him anymore, and that he didn't even seem to ask for forgiveness. Was he…

His reflection came to an abrupt end when Damsel pushed him aside to grab LaCroix with a snarl. Nines stumbled and had to catch himself on the wall to avoid falling, and when he managed to pull himself together and turn around, LaCroix was on the ground, Damsel straddling him. She was yelling again, punctuating her speech with her fists.

"You. Don't. Get. To. Be. Sorry. You. FUCKER! _You_ tried to kill him! It's all your fucking fault!"

LaCroix wasn't even trying to protect himself. Damsel had probably broken his nose; he had fresh blood on his chin. Nines felt strangely detached. Maybe that was it. Damsel would kill LaCroix, giving him what he courted so desperately. Skelter seemed ready to help her; Jack was looking at Nines, as if waiting for something.

Nines looked back at LaCroix, whose eyes fluttered open to gaze at him.

"Damsel, stop it," Nines ordered before he even knew why.

"You're no fun, Nines," she complained, crossing her arms but not getting up.

Nines mentally prodded his last realisation. He was _so_ fucked.

"I don't want you to die either," he told LaCroix, crouching next to him.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Damsel and Skelter screamed in eerily chorus.


	13. Chapter 13

Damsel got up so fast she almost tripped on LaCroix.

"This is too much, I'm outta here," she announced. "Please make sense when I come back."

She stomped out of the room, quickly followed by Skelter who shot a last disapproving look at Nines before closing the door. Jack took a seat with a grin.

"Jack, could you please leave too?" Nines sighed.

He felt so tired suddenly, and he still hadn't managed to get LaCroix down to understandable levels of weird.

"Aw, Damsel is right, you're no fun," Jack laughed before obeying.

Left alone with LaCroix, Nines sat down beside him, trying to find the next step.

"I don't understand," LaCroix said.

He hadn't moved, didn't even wipe away the blood on his face.

"What, that I don't want you dead?" Nines asked.

"Yes."

"You don't want me dead either," Nines remarked, "and you _tried_ to get me killed. I never did this to you. So how is it stranger?"

"I… deserve to die," LaCroix slowly said.

"You're a fucking cammie and a total jerk, so I guess some could argue you'd deserve it, yeah. But I'm an Anarch and I disagree, so I suppose this can't be an universal opinion."

LaCroix shook his head before wincing in pain.

"I deserve to die because I'm _weak_ ," he explained.

Nines blinked, at a loss for words.

"You… OK, first, how the fuck are _you_ weak? And second, I'm pretty sure only the Sabbat kills its weakest on principle . You can die because of weakness, but that doesn't mean you _deserve_ it."

That seemed a foreign concept to LaCroix.

"My Sire…" he began before trailing off.

Nines felt an overwhelming urge to punch someone he hadn't even met.

"Did your Sire put this bullshit in your head? Because this _is_ bullshit, LaC… Sebastian," Nines caught himself.

"He told me I had to be strong," LaCroix whispered. "That I'd die if I couldn't be. That he'd kill me himself if I stayed the way I was... so weak he was certain it wasn't even worth trying to let me out into the world."

Nines punched the floor, then swore. LaCroix jumped slightly. He looked puzzled and a bit afraid.

"I'll kill _him_ ," Nines stated through gritted teeth.

"He's already dead."

Nines did his best to calm down. It was not easy.

"Alright… You _don't_ deserve to die. Now, tell me why you think you're weak?"

"I'm afraid."

It took Nines two or three seconds to realise it was not a refusal but an answer.

"What, that's it? You're afraid so you're weak? Everybody's afraid of something!"

"No, you don't understand. I'm afraid. All the time. I'm afraid of talking before the Primogens, afraid of giving orders, afraid of going _out_! Some nights I almost cannot _dress_ because my hands are _shaking_ and I cannot _think_ because my head is too full of _fear_ and I don't know how to stop it I just want it to stop but I cannot do _anything_ because I'm _weak_ , I'm _weak_ , I'm broken, I'm disgusting, I hate myself but I have no _choice_ but to go forward because I'm too _afraid_ to just _let them_ kill me!"

Nines stared at LaCroix, who _was_ shaking, as if screaming had broken some seal inside of him and he was now overwhelmed by those feelings he had kept silent for so long. Nines didn't know how to answer that, so he put his valid hand behind LaCroix's back to help him sit and pulled him into an awkward hug.

After a few seconds, LaCroix broke down crying.


	14. Chapter 14

In the end, LaCroix didn't really have a choice.

When Damsel and Skelter had come back less than one hour later –without Jack, who had disappeared without saying anything– it was with the news that the kid had killed the Sheriff and that Strauss had claimed the Prince position. Upon seeing LaCroix mute, unable to react, Nines had decided to just order him to stay with him, and the _relief_ in LaCroix's eyes at being given orders had been heartbreaking.

Two nights later, Skelter and Damsel still weren't talking to Nines, but he could understand them. He hoped this would get solved one way or another, because he didn't want to lose them, and he couldn't bring himself to kick Sebastian out.

It was plain _weird_ to see him without his pristine suit. In jeans and a hoodie, Sebastian looked _young_ , even though his discomfort was obvious. But Strauss was looking for him and he had to lie low. And frankly, no one would think to look twice at this shy guy in the Last Round.

When Sebastian spoke –rarely– it was in a hushed voice. He wouldn't look anyone in the eyes except Nines. He just waited. He obeyed Nines, ignored the others. Damsel had started calling him Nines' pet, and Skelter had soon followed; he didn't appear fazed by this.

Nines hadn't signed for this, but he felt protective of him. So in between sizing up Strauss and trying to mend things with his friends, he did his best to teach Sebastian a more truthful vision of unlife.

Nines knew he probably couldn't make him an Anarch, but he could at least try to make him his own _person_. If he was a decent one would then be his choice.

But there was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware I went a liiittle bit OOC here, but I wanted to give these two at least a chance at a good ending. I hope you'll forgive me =) (I couldn't see LaCroix surviving without *talking* with Nines, and I couldn't see him do it without breaking down.)
> 
> It was of course Ming Xiao who killed Grout. She framed Nines in the hope to force an open war between the Camarilla and the Anarchs (but if LaCroix asked, it was to help him with a rival… obviously.) She also set up the fire at Griffith Park to kill both Nines (without whom the Anarch would devolve into chaos at least for a while) and the fledgling (LaCroix's powerful pawn). Didn't work in her favor ^^
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you had a good time =)


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